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AN ENTERTAINMENT 

For Churches, Sunday Schools and 

Societies connected with 

the Church 






BY 



LILLIE M. WALKER 



Arthur Radcliffe Publishing Co. 

MILLVILLE, NEW JERSEY 




n %mWt 



AN ENTERTAINMENT 

For Churches, Sunday Schools and 

Societies connected with 

the Church 



BY 

LILLIE M. WALKER 



PRICES: 




Single Copy without right of production 


$1.00, postpaid 


One Dozen Copies, with right of two per- 




formances 


$4.00, postpaid 


License for additional performance in the 




same city a* books are purchased 


$2.50 


License for performance in any city other 


- 


than which books are purchased 


$4.00 



The Right of Public Performance Reserved 

Copytiahf. 1917 by LillieM. Walker 
Copyrisht. 1921 by Arthur RadcUffe Publiihing Co. 



Arthur Radciiffe Publishing GOi 

MILLVILLE, NEW JERSEY 



CAST OF CHARACTERS / .^,' 



■h^..?^ 
'\^' 



/^^^V'' 



Helen Emerson 

Happy 

Verna . A Very young girl 

Mr. Bard 

Mrs. Smith 

Mr. Roe 

Mrs. Roe 

Dorothy Clark 

Ralph Hurd 

*Amanda Washington 

*Dr. Davis 

*Edith Davis 



Time— June 

Place— Kansas City, Mo. 

Time of Performance — About one hour and three quarters. 

Scene — Poorly furnished bed room in cheap boarding house. 

Costumes— Ordinary attire as suggested by characters. 

Stage Directions — All through the playlet. 

Exits— Right, rear and left, if possible. 

Caution — This composition is fully copyrighted und'^r the 
existing laws of the United States, and no one is al'owed 
to publicly perform the same without first obtaining per- 
mission of the publishers. 

Requirements— Permission to produce will be granted only 
on the purchase of One Dozen or more copies of 
the book. 



We have had so many calls for a book of this character, we 
take pleasure in presenting this littie playlet to the pub- 
lic, and hope it will teach many the great lesson of 
sacrifice. 

THE PUBLISHERS 

*May be ommitted if desired 

^ ©CI.D 58848 
TMP92-007568 



OCT ■ .; 1921 '"'^ ^ 



HER SACRIFICE 

Especial notice should be taken that the pos- 
sessi(,n of this book without a valid contract for 
proiu lion first having been obtained from the 
publishers, confers no right or license to profes- 
sions or amateur to produce the play publicly or 
in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to 
the reading public only, and no performance of 
it may be given except by special 
arrangement with the 

ARTHUR RADCLIFFE PUB. CO. 

See requirements on Page 2 



Happy: Bless her heart — ironing away like a little 
woman. Here let me finish that, 

Verna: No, thank you, I always finish what I begin. 
Have you mended all those clothes so soon? 

Happy: Certainly — I, too, always finish what I begin 
(whistles). Never was so happy in my life, dearie! Just 
think, Helen is really going away to rest — going to have 
more to eat — going to do just nothing for a whole month 
but sit on the grass — wade in the streams— listen to the 
birds and eat and sleep (whistles). Gee, it's hard to be- 
lieve! (whistles). 

Verna: I'm so glad she is going that I want to cry: 
but what shall we do without her? 

Happy (kisses her: We'll stick closer together than 
ever (swings her about). Think of the things she'll have 
to tell us when she returns. How's your arm, dearie? 

V. (showing arm) : Better — but it hurts yet. She 
hit so hard, Happy! 

Hap, (dresses arm then kisses it) : That will cool it 
dearie. We'll not tell Helen it hurts. Well here is a 
place I forgot to mend (picks up dress) — 

V. (laughing) : "Certainly, I always finish what I be- 
gin ! " 

Hap.: Say, dearie, when Helen comes in she's going 
to be very tired and tremendously blue about leaving us; 
so it's up to us to be unusually gay and dispel the darkness 



and gloom that naturally exists when life-long friends like 
us are on the eve of separation. Certainly! So vie must 
start something the moment she arrives so she won't 
think we're sad. See? 

v.: Certainly. What shall we start? 

Hap.: I'll depend upon inspiration. 

v.: Do you think that's safe? 

Hap.: Certainly (whistles). 

v.: You certainly do seem happy. I am trying to 
act happy but I feel awful queer inside. 

Hap.: Certainly — I do to. My heart is going this 
way — my head is going this way, and my stomach is go- 
ing this way. Bat I'll drov/n all my feelings if it kills me. 

v.: Happy, will you never tell if I tell you a secret? 

Hap.: Certainly. 

v.: Certainly what? 

Hap.: Certainly not. 

v.: I know where Helen keeps her money, so I slip- 
ped in a quarter— that will give her more to eat. 

Hap.: Where did you get a quarter? 

v.: Earned it cleaning shoes for the man upstairs. 

Hap.: Good for you! Now can you keep a secret? 

v.: Certainly. 

Hap.: Certainly what? 

v.: Certainly yes. 

Hap.: Well, I slipped in two dollars (whistles and 
dances about with Verna). 

v.: I know another secret. Won't you never tell it? 

Hap.: No. 

v.: I heard Helen tell Mrs. Smith that the only rea- 
son she was going away was to get well and strong so she 
could do something for us. 

Hap.: I knew it (whistles). Listen! There she comes 
now. Remember we are frightfully happy. (Helen en- 
ters with bundles, looking pale and tired). 

Helen: You here girls! How long have you been 
here? Verna, give me that iron this minute. You shall 
not iron another bit. Happy, put up that mending — I'll 
have oodles of time while I'm gone to do that. Come 
here and see what I've bought. You'll think it dreadfully 
extravagant; but I figured it all out this way — if I eat 
a light lunch every day, I could have it (displays dress). 
Isn't it beautiful, girls? 

4 



Hap.: Certainly you can have it — money goes a long 
way in Colorado. 

Verna: Certainly it does. 

Helen: Try it on, Happy, so I can see how it looks. 
Hap. (whistles): Certainly, but it will look like a 
mosquito on the pyra mids, (Puts on dress.) 

Helen: Isn't it lovely, girls? Even if it doesn't reach, 
it looks fine where it does. 

Hap. (walking about): How does it look behind? 

Verna: Nothing there. 

Helen: Put on my hat, too, Happy. 

Hap.: Isn't it a wonderful creation? 

Helen: Now my shoes, dear. 

Hap.: Certainly not — I still have eyes to see and 
corns to feel. My big toe wouldn't even go in. 

Helen: Oh, try it. A little squeeze won't hurt you. 
(Hap. tries.) 

v.: Let me, just to show you how they look at a 
distance, Helen. 

Hap.: Perspective, you mean. 

v.: What's that? Your big words do worry me so. 

Helen: They look fine, dearie — just a we bit large. 

Let's dress Verna up too. Here, dear, put on this dress 
and skirt. Hold this new umbrella, Happy. 

Hap. (walking about) : When the rain is descend- 
ing in torrents from the canopy of the heavens, raise it; 
when it stops, close it (whistles). What's this (picking 
up a brush) ? 

Helen: A brush. 

Hap.: Certainly; but the bristles are not all alike — 

uniform. One end for your back, I surmise, and the other 
for your floor. 

Verna: Helen must put on these so we can see how 
she looks in them. Does'nt she look fine? 

Hap.: If that doctor should meet her out West in 
these clothes he would certainly lose his heart, (whistles.) 

Verna: What doctor? 

Happy: The doctor who set her arm last year, and 
whom she cannot forget, (To Helen) You look distingue. 

Helen: Thank you. Where did I lay my supper, 
girls? I'm famished! Oh, here it is. Come dine with 



me, ladies. Had I knov/n you were here, I would have 
brought more. But scanty fare for one will often make 
a royal feast for two — yes, for three. 

, Hap.: Thank you, we have dined. 
(Enter Mrs. Smith.) 

Mrs. S.: How'dy, girls, helping Miss Emerson to 
pack? 

Hap.: Yes, and looking at her pretty things. 

Mrs. S. (lazily): Let me see, what did I come in 
here for, anyway? Oh, yes, to see your new clothes. My, 
ain't they fine, (sniffing.) I do believe I smell my kraut 
burning; if it ain't burned I'll bring you a taste; if it is 
I will too, because some body'll have to help eat it up. 

Helen: Thank you. (Mrs. S. starts to leave, then re- 
turns). 

Mrs, S.: What time do you leave in the morning? 
Helen: At nine o'clock. 

Mrs. S.: I forget, what road did you say you were 
going to take? 

Helen: Union Pacific. 

Mrs. S.: Think it's safe? 

Hap.: Of course it is safe. 

Mrs. S.: Didn't ask you. 

Helen: I think it is perfectly safe. 

Mrs. S. (leaving): I doubt it. I feel in my bones 
there'll be a wreck. I feel like a cemtry. 

Hap.: You look like it, (whistles.) 

(Exit Smith) 

Helen: Girls, please excuse me while I read about 
the place where I am going. (Eats and reads.) Accord- 
ing to this, girls, the grass is greener, the pines are larger, 
the mountains are higher, the sky is bluer, the food is 
cheaper, the parks are lovelier, the health is better, the 
people are happier, and the water is wetter out in Colo- 
rado than anywhere else on earth! How I wish that you 
were going too! 

Hap.: Let me finish the packing, Helen; you look so 
tired and I am not. 

Helen: Yes, I am tired; but my heart is singing — 
singing, (embraces girls.) Forgive me, girls, for being 
so happy when I'm going to leave you — but — but — every- 
thing will be so much better when I get back! 

Verna: I don't know what I'm going to do without 
you. 



Happy: You've still got me and my big words and 

the dictionary. 

(Enter Mrs. Smith with kraut.) 

Mrs. Smith: It is burned a little but I don't reckon 
you'll mind as you have so few hot things to eat. You'll 
notice there's a weiner in the bottom — that's burned, too. 

Helen: Thank you; it does help a lot. 

Mrs. Smith: Oh, I forget — I wanted to ask you some- 
thing. Oh, yes, are you going to carry a lunch or go in 
the dining car? 

Helen: I think I'll carry my lunch. 

M rs. S. : My but you eat as if you was starved. What 
did you have for lunch? 

Helen: I didn't have a big lunch today. 

Mrs. S.: I bet you didtft. I forget, what did you 
say you had? 

Happy: You didn't forget this time because she didn't 
say what she had. You blame entirely too much on your 
forge tter! You're inquisitive. 

Verna: What's that? 

Happy: A v^^ild animal that devours, and is indigen- 
ous to this house. 

Verna (puzzled): Oh, where's the dictionary? 

Mrs. S.: What did you say you had for lunch? I 
forget so soon. 

Happy: She had turkey, craberries sauce, olive, cel- 
ery, oysters, plum pudding and ice cream — it all cost three 
dollars and fifty cents. 

Helen (reprovingly): Happy, I had an apple, so of 
course I'm very hungry. Won't you have one of these rolls, 
Mrs. Smith? They are very nice. 

Mrs. Smith: No; eat 'em yourself. You certainly look 
hollow from your head to your toes. 

Hap.: You mean emaciated. 

Verna: What's that? 

Hap.: In this case it means slender and beautiful; 
in that case it would mean (pointing to Mrs. S.) skinny, 
yellow and raw boned. 

Mrs. S.: Oh, I remember what I came in for — your 
rent. 



Helen: I have it all for you, Mrs. Smith. 

Mrs. S.: I do believe I smell my meat burning; if it 

ain't burned I'll bring you some for your lunch on the 
train; if it is I'll bring you some any way, because some- 
body has to help eat it up. 

Hap.: You need not trouble, I am going to fix that 
lunch myself. I shall see that it includes only such edi- 
bles as shall be readily taken up by the digestive apparatus 
of her anatomy and such as shall be easily assimulated 
and converted into blood bone and sinew. 

Helen: Oh, Happy, you are such a freak and such a 
joy! 

Verna: What's a freak? 
Hap.: I'm it and I'll prove it. 

(Exit Happy.) 
Helen: What is she going to do now? 

v.: Prove that she is a freak. 

Helen: Come on, Verna, and help me count the 
money — I'll tell you what I'm going to do with every cent 
of it. You put all the dimes and quarters in a pile and I'll 
count the half dollars and dollars. 

(They count.) 

v.: Ten dimes and twelve quarters. 

Helen: Why, dearie, I have two dollars and twenty- 
five cents more than I thought I had. How could I have 
made such a mistake. It cannot be. Let's count it over again 
(counts). No sir, that's right. Two-twenty-five extra. 
Think of it! That's like the widow's oil. 

v.: And like the manna in the wilderness. 

Helen: Only better because the manna came for just 
a day at a time and this extra will feed me for a long 
time. Do you know what I shall do with it? Listen, 
dear (reads from folder) : "Excursion parties are formed 
every day to climb and explore wonderful undiscoverea 
glories of the Rockies. Automobiles, ponies and burros are 
used for these excursions — the cost being small." 

I have heard that a burro is only twenty-five cents an 
hour; two hours, fifty. Fifty into two and a quarter, four 
trips and twenty-five cents left. Think of it, when i 
thought I should have to walk everywhere. 

Now if someone would only come in answer to my 
ad I should be almost to happy to live! You see this is 
the way it is done, dear: The real traveler (I would be 
the companion) puts up the money for the expenses and I 
put up with the traveler. I mean that I would take care of 

8 



her on the journey and put up with her disposition if she 
were not agreeable. Then I would have all this left to 
do something else with. 

I shall buy you and Happy some clothes and books 
which you need so much. I shall pray very hard about 
that traveler tonight. Since my money has increased, 
nothing seems impossible! 

(Whistling is heard.) 
(Happy enters with a man's hat and coat on.) 

Happy (laughing) : Well, how do I look? 

Helen: GREAT; Where did you get those clothes? 

Hap.: The dude's upstairs — he is out of town. 

Verna: Where's the rest of them? 

Hap. (whistling): He has them on. Whom do I look 

like? 

Helen (laughing): Exactly like the minister at Trin- 
ity Church! 

Hap. (proudly looking into mirror): Certainly my 
mirror tells me that I am the born image of him. 

Helen: Whatever made you think of doing this, 
Happy? You do look so funny. 

Hap.: I believe that I was predestined to be a preach- 
er or someone who likes to talk; so I was desirious of 
seeing if I could look the part. WHY was I not a BOY. 

Verna: It is too bad! You are a swell boy! 

Happy: Now observe that I have not only the dis- 
tinguished appearance of the aforesaid preacher, but also 
a similar vocabulary and mannerisms. (Steps out proudly.) 

Ladies and Gentlemen: It certainly affords me great 
pleasure to stand before you this evening and consider 
with you in the short time alloted to me some of the ques- 
tions, vital questions, that must deeply interest every in- 
telligent, public spirited citizen. 

(Aside to girls) How is it going, girls? 

Helen (applaudingly): Great! Go on. 

Hap. (clearing throat); The theme for our consider- 
ation this evening is Evolution; Progression; Advance- 
ment; Development. 

They are one and the same thing. 

I had in my church in Hoboken a man who took issue 
with me on this subject one day when I kad him out in my 
little Ford. I am telling you they are one and the same 
thing. Hear me — they are one and the same thing! I 
care not from what premise you start — take your fore- 
father for instance — the monkey. Hear m^, I am telling 
you! 



Follow out the logical deductions: Evolution is de- 
velopment; development is advancement and progression; 
progression is evolution. Proof you demand? Certainly: 
Man is a bigger monkey today than he has ever been in the 
history of the world! 

(Laughing): How did I do it? 

Verna: Great! You are a born orator. 

Happy (dolefully) : Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
the saddest are these, "What might have been." 
(Whistles and walks about proudly ) 

I should love to be a preacher and hold thousands 
spellbound — for hours — or put them to sleep, (laughs.) 

One of the dearest men, a pillar in the church, goes 
to sleep every Sunday at Trinity. You should see him 
wake up with a start and look around to see if anyone 
noticed if he were sleeping. 

Well, I must go and take off my ministerial garb and 
help you pack. It is a wonderful feeling to imagine for 
a few brief moments that you are a preacher! "Of all 
sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'What 
might have been'." (Starts to leave room.) 

Verna: Good-night, Happy; I'll be gone when you get 
back. It is time to put the twins to bed. 
Hap. (kisses her) : Good-night, dear. 

(Exit Happy.) 

Verna (embracing Helen: Kiss me, precious — it will 
be so lonely when you are gone. But this is not the last 
kiss, for I shall see you a minute in the morning. Mrs. 
Wells said if the twins were not cross I could run over 
for five minutes. Oh, those twins! I must go. One more 
kiss, dearie. 

(Exit Verna.) 
(Happy returns and begins packing.) 

Helen: Please do not do that; I can easily finish that 
in the morning. I am too tired tonight, and besides I want 
to talk to you — it will be our last chance. 

Hap.: Let me put this away for you then I will 
come. 

Helen: It breaks my heart to leave dear little Verna. 
When I think of how she works in that house caring for 
those cross heavy twins, I could cry my eyes out. 

Hap.: So ctald I, Helen. 

Helen: Dearie, the reason I am so happy about going 
is that I shall return well and strong; then we will study 
hard to fit ourselves for better positions so we can rent 
a little flat together and have Verna with us. Oh, Happy, 

10 



that is why I am going! My heart leaps and throbs at 
the thought of what we shall do when I return. 

Happy: I could get a better position now if it were 
not for those old fractions. I think any woman who wants 
one and two-thirds yards of silk at one dollar and sixty- 
nine cents a yard should be electrocu — ostracized, or — or — 
oslerized. Such freaks as that keep me out of a better 
job. 

Helen: We will keep on studying. The opportunity 
for something better will surely come; it is our part to 
be ready when it comes. 

Happy: I don't suppose I shall ever win the Nobel 
prize for literature, but I certainly do love to talk and 
write. 

Helen: You may. Who knows? I believe there are 
wonderful possibilities in each one of us. (Long pause.) 

Happy: You are an angel to us both, Helen. 

Helen: But I want to take Verna from that terrible 
environment. Come, dear, you should not stay another 
minute. You have to go to work so early that you should 
be in bed this minute. Come on. I'll walk to the corner 
with you for a breath of air. 

(Happy marches about with hat and umbrella as she 
sings, "You're going to the mountains, yes, you are, &c." 
Toward the end of song she tosses aside Helen's clothes 
and dons her own hat as she swings Helen gayly off the 
stage with last words.) 

(They exit.) 



SCENE II 



Same as before, Next morning. 

(Helen, singing, putting on hat before mirror. 
(Enter Mrs. Smith.) 

Mrs. Smith (yawning): Nearly ready? 

Helen: Almost. Isn't this the most glorious morning 
you ever saw? 

Mrs. S.: I guess so; but I'm too sleepy to see. My 
soul, but you look pert. 

Helen (proudly) : Do I really look well dressed? Do 
I look like a real tourist? 

Mrs. S.: Well, I reckon you do. What did I come in 
here for anyway? 

Helen: To see if I were ready? 

11 



Mrs. S.: No, something more than that. Oh, yes, to 
tell you that I saw Romeo and Juliet last night. It's an 
awful play — didn't end good. 

Helen: I have never seen the play, but I have studied 
it. It is a truly great play. 

Mrs. S.: Well I don't think so. I don't care for 
Shakespeare no how. Someone gave me a comp. so I went; 
but all I could think about while I was there was that if 
you did not get a rest soon you would be where Juliet 
was. 

Helen: Where Juliet was? 

Mrs. Smith: Yes, where Juliet was — in the TOMB. 
My, but you do look sick! 

Helen: But I am not so sick, and, besides, Juliet was 
neither sick nor dead — at first. 

Mrs. Smith: Dead at last — so what's the difference? 

Helen: Cheer up, Mrs. Smith; you cannot make me 
gloomy. I am going to have a wonderful trip, and a good 
rest, and be stronger than I've even been in my life. 

Mrs. Smith: It is good that you can be so cheerful 
when you reallj-- are sick. Some folks don't know enough 
to worry. Let me see, did I leave anything on the stove 
to burn? Yes, I did — some water. If it's not burned I'll 
bring you some; if it is, I'll bring you some anyway, be- 
cause somebody has to help eat it up. Yes, I smell it. 

(Exit.) 

(Helen still singing and preparing for journey. Mrs. 
Smith shows in woman.) 

Helen (to woman) : Good morning? 

Woman (taking out advertisement) : Are you the 
person who put in this advertisement? 

Helen (joyously): Yes, that is mine. Do you want a 
companion to the mountains? 

Woman (eagerly): Yes; when can you go? 

Helen (sitting near her) : Isn't it splendid that you 
should get here before I left? Nearly missed each other. 
What if we had? 

(Woman stares vacantly at Helen.) 

We have time to talk it over a little if you are ready 
to. You see I am quite worn out and the doctor says I 
must have complete rest and a change for at least a 
month; so I am going where I have longed to go all my 
life — to the mountains! Everybody says that Manitou — 
that's where I am going — is wonderful! 

12 



1 



Woman (eagerly): Yes, everything is wonderful in 

the mountains — that's why I want to go, too. I can see 
the great rugged peak now beneath whose shade my sis- 
ter and I used to play; I can hear the little brook trick- 
ling down over the rocks in the canyon where we built 
houses for our dolls; I can smell the pines and feel the 
soft wind on my cheeks (passionately), I see, I hear, I feel 
it all, girl! Could I but see it all again the pain in my 
head would leave me— the longing that has broken my 
heart would cease. The cloud— the cloud— it seems that a 
cloud is over my mind and shuts out my memory, (grop- 
ingly.) I cannot remember anything — I only know that 
I must go to my mountain home. Something whispers to 
me that there I shall find rest — rest — and — and — the pain 
will go. (holds head.) (rising.) When can we go? Let 
us go now while the pain is not so bad. 

Helen (puzzled and solicitous: Have you been ill? 
Where are your friends or family? 

Woman (slowly) : No, not ill; but my head— my 
head — pain, (holds head.) 

Helen: Where are your friends? Where have you 
been living? 

Woman (hopelessly) : No friends. 

Helen: Why have you not gone before? 
Woman: No money! 

Helen: No money! But you do not understand: I 
advertised that I might be companion to someone — to take 
care of on the journey — that my expenses might be paid, 
then I could have that money for something else. Do you 
understand? 

Woman (piteously) : You have not money for me, 
too — I must stay? 

Helen (desperately): Please try to think of your 
friends here — where you live — your name. Please try to 
think. 

Woman : I can't think — that's the trouble. Last 
night the cloud seemed to be lifted for awhile. I saw this 
advertisement — it gave me life and memory — I found you! 
I only know that my home and mountains will restore me. 
(imploringly.) If I could go now — now, my health, my 
memory would come back to me. I know it — I feel it. 

Take me with you, girl, take me with you. (passion- 
ately.) 

Helen: I cannot take you with me. I have not enough 
money for both. Think; have you no money anywhere? 

13 



Think; you must have some where you are living? Where 
have you been living? 

Woman: I've not been living — I've been searching 

Helen: Searching for what? 

Woman (shaking head) : I do not remember. Take 
me with you, girl; take me with you, girl. Then I'll re 
member — take me home to my mountains. 

Helen: I cannot take you — but — but — I could sena 
you. What should you do when you get there if you 
could not remember? Where is your home? 

(Woman points to red mark on time table.) 

Helen: That is much farther than I was going. 

Woman: Somebody would remember me and help 
me — (hesitatingly) yes, help me to remember. Send me. 
girl — send me. (pleadingly.) 

Helen (deflectively) : How can you go now — you have 
no baggage — nothing to use on the long journey? 

Woman: I need nothing but home and my mountains. 
Send me, girl; send me! (very dramatic.) 

Helen: Listen, please. Try hard to understand. I 
will send you. The train that I was going to take leaves 
in one-half hour — it is a through train to where you are 
going. I will put you on it and pray that God will lead 
someone to iBnd you and help you to remember. 

Woman: YOU are going to send me now? 

Helen: Yes, I am going to send you. Sit down a mo 
ment, please; you will need a few things for the jour- 
ney. 

(Gives her the small traveling bag.) 

Come now; we shall have to hurry. 

Woman (dazed) : I'm going— I'm going. Then I'll 
remember — I'll remember. 

Helen: Yes; the station is not far, but we must 
hurry. 

(Enter Mrs. Smith.) 

Mrs. Smith: Going out with her and it's nearly train 
time! (looking about.) Helen and Woman Exit 

What has happened? Half unpacked — left half the 
stuff behind. Well, I'll help a bit here or she'll miss that 
train as sure as Sampson lost his hair or that a Demo- 
cratic President was elected to a second term of office. 

I'll sub-rent this room while she's gone. She'll never 

14 



know it. Let's see, what did I come in here for anyway? 
Did I leave anything on the stove to burn? Well, if I 
did it will just have to burn, for I'm certainly needed here. 
Let me see what was I thinking about before I thought of 
something on the stove that might burn? Oh, yes; sub- 
renting this room. I know of a man right this minute that 
I'll call up about it, middle-aged man with iron-grey hair, 
a youthful face and such fetching ways. No doubt he 
would appreciate a home like this for awhile where bright 
and congenial company would make up for the lack of 
many modern conveniences. 

I should like to keep romance alive and flourishing in 
my heart. He may become steady, too, for I don't believe 
Miss Emerson will ever get well, (sniffing.) I do be- 
lieve I smell something burning. 

I guess it is that — 

(Helen enters.) 

Mrs. S.: What's happened? You've missed your 
train ? 

Helen: I am not going away. 

Mrs. S.: Not going away? (amazed.) 

Helen: I have changed my mind. 

Mrs. S.: You've changed your mind? (incredulous.) 

Helen: PLEASE leave me — I wish to be alone. 

(Mrs. Smith goes'but muttering.) 

(Helen removes hat and gloves listlessly. Begins to 
unpack.) 

Helen: (imploringly): Show me the way. Father! 
Show me the way! "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one 
of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto 
me." 

(Continues unpacking.) 

(Enter Mrs. Smith with Mr. Bard.) 

Mrs. S.: Here's a man to see you, Miss Emerson. 

Helen (surprised) : Good morning, Mr. Bard. 

Mr. Bard: Good morning. Miss Emerson. I know that 
you are surprised to see me, but I was in the office a few 
minutes ago when you called over the 'phone and said 
that you would report for work in the morning. I — I — 
wondered if some misfortune had overtaken you. I — I — 
thought that perhaps I might be of some assistance to you, 
knowing how much you needed a change and a rest. 

Helen: I — I — ^no, thank you. 

16 



Bard: May I inquire why you changed your mind? 

Helen: I met someone who needed the money more 
than I needed the vacation. 

Bard: You mean to tell me that you gave away the 
money that you have been saving for your vacation? 

Helen: Just passed it on. 

Bard: To save a friend? 

Helen: A woman came here this morning just as 1 
was leaving. She had in her hand an advertisement of 
mine. Her mind and health were evidently much im- 
paired by some great trouble, and despite her clouded 
mental condition, She convinced me that her need was 
greater than mine. I put her on the train and sent her to 
her home. 

Bard: Will she return the money? 

Helen: I don't think — 

Bard: Didn't you take her name and address, or give 
her yours? 

Helen: No; I did't think of that — we had to hurry 
so. 

Bard: Great business, I must say. Nothing in a deal 
like that. 

Helen: Oh, yes, there is. There is great compensa- 
tion as I think of the look of joy that dispelled the look of 
longing and despair on her face. I thank God that He 
gave me a heart to feel her longing, (pause.) 

Bard: What are you going to do now? 

Helen: Go back to work in the morning. 

Bard (drawing nearer) : Miss Emerson, I have no- 
ticed your failing health for some time, and I insist that 
you take an indefinite rest. You must not report for work 
in the morning — it would be a crime. 

Helen: "Take an indefinite rest!" What do you 
mean? Where in the world could I get the money for an 
indefinite rest? 

Bard: I will give you a few months' off with pay — 
pay in advance at an increase of salary. I will advance 
you now enough for your first expenses. You can take the 
evening train and no one need know anything of your 
changed plans — this little arrangement is just between us. 

Helen (thoughtfully): Thank you; you are very kind, 
but it is impossible. I could never pay you back. It has 

16 



taken me two years to save enough, barely enough, for a 
month's rest. 

I have gone without lunches and sometimes breakfast, 
and walked home, and sewed evenings, and — and — gonp 
v/ithout so many things that I really needed. So you 
see I could nevej- pay you back. 

Bard: I do not expect you to return it. I shall be 
very glad to do this small favor for you. I have been 
thinking for some time of raising your wages — we wi^^ 
consider this a bonus for faithful services. 

Helen (eagerly) : If you are going to give me morr 
wages, I shall soon be able to save a little. Even a do' 
lar a week would be wonderful! You have no idea. Mi 
Bard, how much a dollar a week would mean to a work- 
mg girl. It would mean — it would mean — it would mean 
so much! (More eagerly, approaching him.) Then you 
will increase Happy's wages, too, won't you? Then we 
can do something that we want to do so much. 

Bard: What is that you wish to do? 

Helen: We want to take a little flat so that we can 
have Verna with us and send her to school. Then I should 
be perfectly happy. 

Bard: Your expenses would be much greater, and-^ 

Helen: We have figured it all out carefully: if each 
of us had a dollar a week more we could do it and we 
would be so much happier and have much more to eat, 
too — hot things. One does grow very tired of cold lunches, 
(joyfully.) I have always believed there would be a way; 
so if you are going to increase our wages, I am sure that 
I can get along without a vacation. I would much rather 
have two or three little rooms that we could call home 
and have Verna with us. 

Thank you, Mr. Bard; you have made me so glad! 

Bard: I didn't say that I would do anything for 
Happy— in fact, I am not interested in Happy. I will in- 
crease yours only on the condition that you go away for 
a long rest. I will pay the expenses. 

Helen (surprised and perplexed): Why should you 
do this for me? 

Bard: Because I'm interested in you. (drawing 
nearer) Miss Emerson, you are a most attractive girl. 
You certainly have not failed to notice my admiration 
for you. Any unusual favors shown j^ou at the store have 
been at my command, although you have always repulsed 
me. I am your friend and want to help you. Do as I ask 
you to do, then when the roses have returned to your 

17 



cheeks and the luster to your eyes you will be the most 
beautiful girl I know. You don't know how much I want to 
help you. Rest and health and beautiful clothes would 
make a wonder of you, girl! 

Helen: "Beautiful clothes!" 

Bard: Yes; you shall have beautiful clothes and 
books and flowers and music and everything that an ex- 
quisite creature like you should have. Take this needed 
rest for a few months. Then I will send you to the country 
home of my cousin where you may live in luxurious ease 
as long as you like. She would enjoy a rare companion 
like you. 

I could see you often; we could read together, walk 
and ride — be such good chums. 

No more cheap boarding houses, cold meals, plain 
clothes, low funds. You would be LIVING! 

If you will do this, I will give your friend a much 
better position and send your Verna to school. 

Helen (surprised and dazed): This picture dazzles 
me! But I could never pay you back — never pay for all 
of this. I cannot do as you wish but if you are so anxious 
and willing to do so much for me, won't you please do 
just a little for Happy? She sews from morning till night 
for six dollars a week. She never has but one meal a 
day — what you would call a meal. She washes and irons 
and mends at night when she is so tired that she cannot 
see. She's so brave — she whistles and smiles all the time. 
I know it is to hide her hopelessness and to help me. 
She is so splendid! 

"It's easy enough to be pleasant when life goes along 
like a song; but the man that's worth while is the man that 
can smile when everything goes dead wrong." That's 
Happy ! 

Couldn't you help her in some way? I know there will 
be a way for me. 

(Pleadingly.) She is well and strong now, but after a 
while the long, hard strain of work and the lack of suf- 
ficient good food will begin to sap her strength just as it 
has mine. 

Then will follow weary nights when she cannot sleep 
because she is so tired. Then the long wearier days when 
she'll almost faint at her task. Then when her hands re- 
fuse to perform their required amount of work — there is 
no place for her! 

(imploringly.) Oh, Mr. Bard, please save Happy from 
this! Increase her wages — that would mean more food, 



18 



less strain. Even a dollar a week more would mean so 
much! 

Bard: You plead well for your friends. I will do any- 
thing for them you ask if you will do as I wish. 

Put on your hat— my car is outside. We will take a 
little spin, then have lunch. Then I'll put you on the 
train and send you to find health and happiness. Here is 
the money — take happiness, girl — it is yours. 

Come, I want you; I have set my heart upon doing 
this thing for you. (approaches her— she repulses him.) 

I'll do everything and anything you ask and more for 
your friends if you will accept my assistance— if not I'll 
no NOTHING. 

Helen: Honest love does not express itself as you 
have done. Go, tempter, GO, and take your money with 
you! 

Bard: Listen to me, girl: you are ill! Go to work 
again, and in a short time you will be in the hospital— 
the COUNTY hospital, your friends unable to help you' 
What will you do then? 

Helen: I'll die if need be: but with my soul unsullied 
and my faith unshaken in HIM who said, "Fear not I 
will never forsake thee." 

Bard (laughs) : You'll come to me yet. 

(Exit Bard.) 



SCENE III. 

Scene— Same as before. Six months later. 
(Helen ill — sewing.) 

[Laundress enters.) 
Amanda: Howdy, Honey, how is yo' all today? 
Helen: Better, thank you, Amanda. 

Amanda: I do declare to goodness, I done do believe 
yo' all do look a lettle better. I'se mighty sorry. Honey 
but I can't do yo' all wash no more, fo yo' clothes am a 
getting dat tin dat ris here nigger am a feared to touch 
em fear I'll busticate em. (holds up garment.) 

Look-a hear, Honey, dis am darned and darned till I'm 
scared to look at it. Beside, I got to get something to do 
what 11 take my mine off'n my domestical difflcults! 

Helen: Are you having trouble at home, Amanda? 

Amanda: Law yes, chile. It's nothing but money, 

19 



money, money! Last Monday my ole man done ax me fo a 
quata: Tuesdav he axed me fo fifty cents; Thursday fo 
ONE DOLLAR, and Friday fo TWO DOLLARS! 

Helen: What does he do with it? 

A. (hesitates) : I dunno; I done nebber give him none 



yit. 



Helen: Won't he work at anything? 



A.: Nothin, cept fittin. Law me, chile, he done cum 
home the odder day wid his lip cut, one eye out, and his 
nose a bleedin. He was a sight! He sed that when dat 
odder colored gentleman done got fro wid im, a breakin im 
all to peces, he jist trowed im on de flo an tromped all over 
im. He lowed he nebber was so sick of a nigger befo 
in all ob his life. 

Helen: Too bad, Amanda. 

A.: Yassum. Husbands is awful troublesome critters, 
nohow. I jist tole dat ole colored gentleman ob mine dat 
befo I maryied im I knowed a fool nigger dat wuz sho 
crazy bout me. He lowed he wisht I'd a maryied inn. 
(laughs.) I done tole im I DID. 

Wall, mus be gwine along. I sho am sorry you' all 
am so pooly, Honey. 

Amanda: Yassum, it am awful. But I reckon I'll hab 
it till de trumpit sounds, becayse laziness and CUSSID- 
NUSS ain't nebber killed no nigger yit. Goodbye, Honey. 

(Exit.) 
(Whistling is heard. Happy enters.) 

Happy: How have you been today, dear? (kisses 
her.) 

Helen: Better, I think, (holds up little dress.) Isn't 
this pretty. I didn't think I could get such a sweet little 
dress out of that old one of mine. Won't Verna be pleased? 

Happy: She will be delighted, (displays slippers and 
stockings.) Look what I brought her. I am going to take 
them to her after while. 

Helen: Take the dress, too dear. 

Happy: I met Mildred down town, and what do you 

imnk has happened? 

Helen: Engaged? 

Happy: Worse than that. 

Helen: Not married? 

Happy: . .Married and to Jack Roe! 

20 



Helen: Jack Roe! Poor Mildred! 

K 'I'^PP^; o'^'®^' P^°^' Mildred. Won't he make her step 
about lively? He is such a boss-lawyers always are. 
(displays fruit.) 

Helen: Oh, Happy, you are always bringing me some- 
thing nice to eat; but you should not— fruit is so expen- 
sive. It tastes so good that I cannot scold you this time. 

I do hope Mildred will be happy. She is so kind and 
generous. Wasn't it splendid of her to give me this negli- 
gee? It is much easier to be sick in pretty things than in 
homely ones. 

T u "?f P/i ^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^i^® you when I'm indisposed, 
I should feign illness frequently, (whistles.) 

Helen: How long have they been married? 

Happy: . .One month. Oh, I forgot to tell vou that they 
are coming over tonight. I invited them. I thought you 
had rather have them come before you move upstairs into 
that dinky room, four by six. 

Helen: Happy, do not speak with so much asperity- 
it IS unworthy of my happy Happy. 

Hapy: I hate the thought of your going into it just 
the same. 

Helen (listening): There they are now! Do I look 
all right. 

Happy: Beautiful. 

(Enter Roes.) 

Happy: Come in, Mr. and Mrs. Roe. So glad to see 
you. 

Mrs. Roe (rushing up to Helen) : This is Jack dearie 
My husband! Isn't he lovely? 

Helen: I am so glad to meet you again Mr. Roe You 
are to be congratulated upon winning such a bride. 

Mr. Roe: Thank you I— 

Mrs. Roe: We are so happy— so congenial— so con- 
siderate of each other (leads Mr. Roe to chair). You may 
read, dear, while we talk over old times, (to girls.) It 
IS wonderful how you can train a man in a month if you 
begin right. 

Helen: I suppose so. 

Mrs. Roe: How are you, dearie? 

Helen: Pretty well, thank you. 

Mr. R.: What a prevarication! I heard that you had 

21 



not done a day's work for a month. 

Helen (smiling): I'm taking a little vacation. 

Mrs. R.: Yes, you look as if you were having an im- 
mense time! 

Mr. R. (turning to girls): Well, you see, she is not— 

Mrs. R. (motioning him to resume reading): Yes, I 
see dear, (to girls.) I do wish that you could meet some- 
one like Jack and fall in love with him and marry him. 
We are so happy! 

Mr. R. (eagerly): You know, dear, that there is — 

Mrs. R.: — not another man in the world like you. But 
all tastes are not alike — 

Mr. R. (smiling): If they were, every — 

Mrs. R. every girl would want you. 

Happy (laughing): Not I. I love tall men. 

Mrs. R.: You never were appreciative. Although 
Jack is not much to look at, he is very intellectual — law- 
yers have to be. And he loves to impart information. 

Helen: Isn't that splendid? 

Mr. R.: You see, Miss Emerson, it — 

Mrs. R.: Yes, she sees, dear; go on reading, darling, 
so you can tell me all the news when we get home, (to 
girls.) That makes him feel that he is imparting informa- 
tion. If there is one thing above another that delights 
the modern man, especially a lawyer, it is the satisfaction 
derived from the consciousness of having imparted in- 
formation. 

Helen: I suppose if every wife would only learn this 
fact early in her married life, many a home would be saved 
from shipwreck. 

Happy: What do you know about it? 

Helen: I've observed. 

Mr. R.: I've an idea, dear — 

Mrs. R.: Keep it. Go on reading, dear heart. 

Helen: Tell me the secret of the perfect training of 
your husband, Mildred. 

Mr. R.: Mildred is very — 

Mrs. R.: Yes, I am. I will tell her about it, dear. 
Never for a moment let your husband suspect that you 
are training him — that would be fatal. Let him think he 
is IT — listen to his information — defer to him seemingly; 

22 



but tightly, tho' lovingly and with smiles hold the reins of 
control in your delicate fingers. 

Mr. R.: I think, dear — 

Mrs. R.: Don't do it, dear — thinking is too wearing — 
save your strength for reading. You see, girls, that I 
anticipated his every wish. 

Happy: Yes; I notice — and his words, too. 

Mr. R.: I see by this paper that that man — 

Mrs. R.: No you do not, precious, for it is upside 
down. He is so crazy about me that there is still a mist 
of happiness over his eyes. He is so wonderful! (Caresses 
him and turns his paper right. He rubs his face and 
frowns.) Does that hurt again, precious? 

Mr. R.: Yes. My mother always taught me to — 
(Continues to caress him.) 

Mrs. R.: Hold your face, darling, and I will tell her 
Jack's mother taught him to count 100 before he began 
to fight; but the other man's mother told him to count 
ten, so while — 

Mr. R: — So while I was still counting — 

Mrs. R.: — the other man handed him one — 

Mr. R.: — right here. 

Mrs. R.: The next time, dear, count less and act 
quicker. 

Mr. R.: You see. Miss Emerson, I — 

Mrs. R.: No she can't see; you've worn her out with 
so much talking. 

Mr. R. (desperately): I was a stranger and — 

Mrs. R.: — and of course somebody took him in just 
because he is small. But he is tremendous when he pleads 
a case! The darling! 

Mr. R.: It made me — 

Mrs. R.: — sore. Of course it did! Go on reading, 
dear; and don't fidget so while wifey is talking. 

Happy: Isn't it cruel to compel hubby to sit per- 
fectly still for such a long time? 

Mrs. R. (disdaintfully) : Talk is cheap. 

Happy (laughing) : Except when you talk on the long 
distance 'phone. Please may I ask Mr. Roe a question? 

Mrs. R.: Certainly; Jack loves to impart information. 

23 



Happy: If it be true that we are made of dust, why 
do we not get muddy when we drink? (whistles.) 

Mr. R. (perplexedly): I'm a lawyer not a — Mrs. R. 

Mrs. R.:— not a thinker. Don't worry or think — go on 
reading, darling. It was Jack's birthday yesterday. 

Helen: What did you give him? 

Mrs. R.: A beautiful dinner that I cooked myself. 

Helen: What else did you get Mr. Roe? 
(Rubs his stomach.) 

Mr. R. (dolefully): I got sick, (examines cuff close 

ly.) 

Mrs. R. What are you doing there, dear? 
Mrs. R.: Trying to read what's on this — 

Mrs. R.: Heavens! I have the plot of a great novel 
on that. Don't even look at it. Come, dear, we must go. 
(to Helen.) Poor little dear, he's worn you quite out 
with so much talk. But I must indulge him occasionally — 
he does so love to impart information. 

He's not so much to look at, but he is truly wonder- 
ful in conversation — lawyers always are. 

Helen: Sorry you have to go so soon. Do you know 
of a cheap room I could get near here? I could get 
along without heat if the room were on the sunny side 
of the house. 

Mr. R.: I know of one in the — 

Mrs. R.: No you don't, angel face. That wouldn't 
do at all. I'll think about it Helen, and drop in again 
soon. 

Helen: I'm enjoying my negligee so much. 

Mr. R.: It fits you so — 

Mrs. R.: It does not fit — it should not fit. 

Mr. R.: I've been thinking — 

Mrs. R.: Please don't, dear — it will ruin you — it is un- 
professional. Good-night, Helen. I do hope you will soon 
be well so you can visit us in our own darling, cosy 
apartments. We are so happy. Do come to see us soon. 
Ta ta, girls. We are going to have fudge for breakfast 

Helen and Happy: Come again soon. 

(Exeunt the Roes.) 
Happy (whistles) : I can see the sun of his happiness 
slowly setting. "Poor Mildred!" — this time we misplaced 

24 



our sympathy; it should have been "Poor Jack!" (Ca- 
resses Helen.) So tired, dearie? Lie back and rest awhile 
for somebody is coming to sing for you. 

Helen: Dorothy? 

Happy: Yes, Dorothy and John are going to stop 
on their way to an entertainment. I told them that you 
were starving for some music. I'll tidy up a little before 
they come. Rest, so you can enjoy them. (Silence for 
a while.) There they are now. 

(Enter John and Dorothy.) 

Helen: So glad to see you both. Bring your chairs 
close to me. How fine you are looking! 

Dorothy: Can't stay but a minute, dearie — got such 
a late start. 

Helen: But you are going to sing for me? I am 
starving for music. Please sing the Rosary. 

Dorothy: That is so solemn! 

Helen: It is so beautiful, and is just what I want to- 
night. 

Happy: She is going to move upstairs tomorrow into 
a room no one else would have, so she wants to kiss the 
cross. 

Helen (reprovingly): Happy. 

Helen: Stand over there, dear, and remove your 
cloak and act as if you were singing before thousands, 
(girl sings — optional.) 

Helen (applauding): Beautiful, beautiful! Won't 
you sing another? 

Dorothy: Have we time, John? (John looks at 
watch.) 

John: No; we shall have to hurry now to get there 
on time. 

Dorothy: Too bad, dearie; but we'll come back soon 
and spend the evening. 

Helen: I shall live in expectation. Thank you both 
so much. Don't forget that you are coming back soon. 
Good-night. 

(Exeunt friends.) 

Helen: Come here, dear; you are sad tonight. What 
has dispelled your wonted brightness? 

Happy: I am rebellious — right down rebellious. The 
sight of those girls has made me so. Look at them — not 



25 



half as good as you — well and strong and enjoying life 
to the fuii, and here you are, the sweetest, dearest, kind- 
est girl in the world, sick and penniless and no one to 
help. 

Why should you be worn out physically and well nigh 
mentally before your time? Why should you be tortured in 
mind and soul because of the necessity of getting together 
enough to pay room rent? 

Why should you by dint of struggle eke out a bare 
existence witli self denial as an ever present monitor? 
Why, Helen, why must these things be? 

Sometimes it looks as if truth were on the scaffold 
and wrong were on the throne. 

Helen: I don't know, dear — I do not see my way, but 
I know my guide. And "I'd rather walk with Him in the 
dark, than walk alone in the light." "He is nearer than 
breathing and closer than hands and feet." Happy, learn 
to trust. There will be a way. Put on the Lord Jesus. 

Happy: "Put on the Lord Jesus?" (pause.) 

Helen: Do you remember the morning we watched 
the sunrise together? 

Happy: The morning you were so ill? 

Helen: Yes. Do you remember how grey and dark 
the sky was when we first looked out? Then how the 
yellow and the pink began to come; how the yellow melted 
into gold and the pink into crimson? 

The glory reached and widened and grew as a blos- 
soming tree, richer and richer, higher and higher, brighter 
and brighter it grew until the golden sun saluted the morn, 
and the dark night retired before his conquering rays. 

So the Christ comes to our life — fills it as the light 
fills the earth. Just a little changing from the old to the 
new. A little tenderness budding into kindness; a little 
compassion prompting one to sacrifice; a little love grow- 
ing into faith; a little faith that puts on the Lord Jesus. 

Oh, tiappy, learn to trust. Do not be discouraged — 
there will be a way. 

Happy: You think I'm not trusting, dear; but I am. 
I went to God the other day and put up the whole situation 
to Him. I went to Him as man to man and asked for a 
square deal. 

I said, "Lord, thou hast told us to ask" and "seek" and 
"abide" that we might have our desires. Now, here is 
Helen who has asked and sought and abided; who has 
divided her food, her money, her time and strength with 
other people; who has cast her bread upon the waters; 

26 



now she is in need, verify thy promises unto her. Help 
her! And I believe He will, Helen. On the surface I may 
be rebellious, but way down underneath I'm trusting. He 
will give us a square deal, (a longe silence.) 

Happy: Shall we read our promises? 

Helen: Yes, please. 

"If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye 
shall ask what ye will and it shall be done unto you." 

"He maketh me to lie dov/n in green pastures, He 
leadeth me beside the still waters." 

"Fear not I am thy God; I will not forsake thee." 

"He shall give his angels charge over thee." 

Helen: Wonderful promises! How can we doubt 
them? "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the 
Lord loveth them that fear Him." 

(A lady and gentleman enter with Mrs. Smith.) 

Mrs. S.: Miss Emerson, here's some folks what wants 
to see you. I told them that you were sick, but they just 
would come anyway. 

(Exit Smith.) 

Miss Davis (approaching Helen): Brother it is she — 
it is she! We've found you- — we've found you! 

(Helen attempts to rise in her surprise.) 

Mr. Davis: Pray be seated — you are ill, and we have 
luch to explain. 



so much to explain 



Helen (eagerly to Miss Davis): Did you get home 
all right? Did someone meet you who knew you? I know 
it must be so, because you are well. 

Miss Davis: Yes, I am well — restored in body and 
mind through your generosity and, I fear, sacrifice. . . . 
1 thought and thought of that day, and all that I could re- 
member was that your eyes seemed to pierce my very 
soul: they seemed like a great searchlight flooding my in- 
nermost being, seeking to know the truth — to uncover the 
hidden springs of my life and motives. 

Then they suddenly became soft and tender and sad 
as you put your arm about me and said in a voice strange- 
ly full of tears and pain, : : You shall go today to your 
mountain and your home." I remembered nothing more 
for weeks. 

Dr. Davis: Let me finish the story, Edith, for Miss 
Emerson has a right to know it all. I will try to make 
it short. 

About a year ago I went to Europe on business rela- 

27 



live to my hospital work in New York. I was detained 
there month after month. 

I left our sister in our home with a trusty old house- 
keeper and a companion. The companion was called away 
to the bedside of her mother and the housekeeper grew 
ill and was taken to her daughter's. 

Just about this time my sister heard that our sister 
Emily who had married ten years before to one unworthy, 
and who after her marriage had dropped out of our lives 
so completely that we could not but think her dead, had 
died a year after her marriage and had left a little child. 

Although we had felt for years that she was dead, 
yet when the certainty came and with it the knowledge 
of a child somewhere, it preyed upon my sister's mind un* 
til lier reason became clouded. 

Because of war conditions, my mail was very irregu- 
lar, and I knew nothing of tTiis until my return. 

Overcome by grief and longing for this little child, she 
came to Kansas City for it was here that she was led to 
believe the child was living. She searched day and night, 
hopelessly, for she had no clue. 

Then her money gave out — this is mostly conjecture, 
for she remembers but little of that time. 

At times her mind must have been clear, and in one 
of those moments saw your advertisement — you know the 
rest. 

We have searched for you ever since my return. We 
have given up all hope of finding the child — in fact, I have 
reason to believe that the story of the child is without 
foundation. 

I came here twice to find you — to repay in part at 
least the great debt we owe you. 

Last week I returned home about to despair of ever 
finding you when Edith met me at the door and ex- 
claimed as she held a little book before my eyes, "I've 
found her!" 

"Found whom?" I inquired. 

Edith (exultantly) : The girl that gave up her vaca- 
tion for me — it all came back to me then — I saw it all! 
LOOK! Isn't this yours — this book of promises? 

Helen (taking book lovingly): Yes; I wondered what 
had become of it. Where did you get it? 

Edith: In a slit in the travelling bag you gave me 
the day you sent me home. I found it three days ago. 
We hastened to you. 



28 



Dr. Davis: Tell her how you happened to find the 
bag. 

Edith: Because of a strange dream. I dreamed that 
I saw you with your arms about a little child, pointing 
her to a verse in that "Book of Promises": "He shall give 
his angels charge over thee." (Takes book and points to 
Averse.) 

Suddenly that picture faded, in fact, was completely 
obliterated by the sudden appearance of a worn satchel 
lying in our attic. All over this satchel was written in 
raised letters of gold: "He shall give his angels charge 
over thee." 

The influence of the dream was so insistent that it 
sent me to our attic to look for the satchel and the BOOK. 
This is what .1 found ! 

(Enter Verna with milk.) 

Verna- (to guests who barely look at her) : Please ex- 
cuse me, Helen must have this milk right now. Mrs. 
Smith says she hasn't had a thing since morning. 

Helen: Thank you, dear, but I am not hungry — I'll 
drink it after a while. 

Dr. Davis (taking glass) : I fear that I must use my 
professional authority and insist upon your drinking the 
milk, (she drinks.) 

If I am not mistaken, we are not quite strangers to 
one another. I think that I set a broken arm for you 
about a year. Have you forgotten? I have not. 

Helen (confused and pleased): I — I — was — not — 
SURE— but I thought— 

Dr. Davis: Well, I was sure the moment I came in. 
I have not been able to quite forget the pathetic little way 
you looked at me as you inquired: "Doctor, how long 
will it be until I can work again?" (walks about.) Just 
couldn't forget it — and — often wondered how you were 
getting on. I left for Europe an hour after I attended 
you, so of course I could not know. 

(During this conversation Happy is sewing at back of 
stage. Just as Verna enters with milk. Miss Davis with- 
out looking at child, approaches Happy and inquires about 
Helen's health. After the doctor takes the milk from 
Verna, she goes to a box and takes out a toy with which 
she plays. Miss Davis returns to front of stage. The 
child sits on couch with Happy as she plays. Suddenly 
both become interested in what the Doctor is saying to 
Helen. As Verna turns her eager face full to the front. 
Miss Davis watches her intently.) 

29 



Dr. (continues) : Now I'll tell you what we are going 
to do : we are going to pack you up and take you home 
with us. 

The Autumn is beautiful in California! You shall 
live in God's out-of-doors for one whole year — yes, ten if 
necessary. 

You shall see the mountains — and climb them too, 
in six months. You shall ride and swim and walk and rest 
until you are tired of resting. Then we'll begin all over 
again. 

How soon can you be ready to go? 

Helen (amazed): I do not understand. You — mean — 
mean — for — for me to — 

Edith (excitedly): Miss Emerson, whose child is 
that? 

Helen (looking at Verna) : She lives with the peo- 
ple next door. Her name is Verna Wells. 

Verna (putting her arms about Helen): "Wells" is'nt 
my real name, you know. I'm just 'dopted. I'm really 
somebody else. 

Edith: Brother, of whom does that child remind 
you? 

Dr. (walks about muttering) : Striking resemblance. 

Edith (reaching for child) : What is your name, 
child, if "Wells" is not? What do you know of your 
mother ? 

Verna: She went to sleep. She said the angels would 
lake care of me. I'm still waiting for them, but they are 
awful long, and I'm so tired of taking care of the twins. 

Dr. (aside) : Those angels haven't been on the job, 
I fear. 

(to Helen.) Do you know anything of this child's 
parentage? 

(Edith caresses child's hair and eyes and hands as 
she murmurs: "Emily's hair — Emily's eyes.") 

Helen: Not a thing. But she always wears a little 
ring about her neck — would that tell you anything? 

(Edith hastily discloses ring. Examines it closely.) 

Edith (exultantly reads): "Emily." I knew it! Emily's 
own baby ring! (clasping child.) I knew it! This hair — 
this mouth — the eyes! My precious sister's baby — I've 
found you! I've found you! You are mine, MINE, MINE! 
(to Helen) Let me take her with me tonight. 



30 



Verna (loyally going quickly to Helen) : I can't leave 
her — I'm all she has besides Happy! 

Dr. (strongly and nobly) : You shall not leave her— 
you loyal little child! You shall remain with her until 
mo.ning, then we will all go away together where there 
is no work waiting for weary ones, nor heavy twins for 
lired little backs. 

(Child close to Helen — others step back.) 

Verna (whispers) : Are we really going away with 
them in the morning? 

Helen: It seems so, dear. 

Verna: Where your mountains are? 

Helen: Yes. 

Verna: And you won't have to work when you're 
tired and sick? And you'll have plenty to eat, and you 
won't have to worry when your money is gone? 

Helen: No, dear. 

Verna: And you'll get well? 

Helen: Yes, 

Verna: Are you sure that they will keep me too? 

Helen: Perfectly sure of that. 

Verna: But what about Happy? 

Helen: There will be a way for Happy. 

Verna: I think the angels have come, don't you? 
Shall I tell God about them? 

Helen: He knov/s, for He sent them. 

Verna: 1 should like to talk about them, anyway, 
(kneeling.) Dear God, we are so glad that you sent the 
angels — there are two of them and they got here just m 
time, for Helen was getting very sick and we had only 
twenty cents left. But that's enough, God, for we are go- 
ing away in the moining to stay a year, and it may be 
TEN! So don't worry about that. 

Now, dear God, if all your angels are not busy, WE 
KNOW you will send one to help Happy— SHE NEEDS 
ONE, TOO! 

(As child prays others group about Happy, indicating 
that she will be cared for, too.) 

(Curtain.) 



31 



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